


Shadows Over Denerim

by Seranna



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alistair never changes, Bull & Dorian get into shenanigans, But eventual Adoribull, Expanding on war table mission, F/M, M/M, Mostly an adventure story, Spying on the spies, Stealing sideline NPC's for my own use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 13:25:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4878550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seranna/pseuds/Seranna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story expands on the War Table mission "Shadows Over Denerim". Alistair writes the Inquisition to request assistance in uncovering a Venatori plot in the Ferelden royal palace. The Inquisitor chose Leliana's proposal of sending an agent to subtly hunt down and eliminate the Venatori spies, except the convoying Inner Circle companions are anything but subtle. </p><p>Alternatively, Charter tries to do her job while Bull and Dorian get into shenanigans in Denerim with occasional assistance from Alistair and his snark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mission

**Author's Note:**

> I have always found it odd that the Inquisition basically invades the Winter Palace for a party to prevent the assassination of Empress Celene, but a plot against King Alistair's life was sidelined into a 4-hour long war table mission. While the focus of the game is not on Ferelden, I still wish we had gotten the chance to play out this particular war table missions. So this is my solution. The Inquisition's resident spy and Venatori expert accompany Leliana's second-in-command to Denerim to solve some mysteries. And we always need more Alistair. 
> 
> A huge shout out to my beta, Smakl, who is excellent at catching everything from stupid spelling errors to weird out of character quirks.

“Inquisitor, a letter for you from King Alistair.”

Ellana Lavellan glanced up from her own half-read rift status report to study her diplomat’s familiar dark olive face. Josephine stood on the other side of the war room, as she picked up yet another letter and began to scan it. She was carrying her usual tablet, though the candle is rarely used now that they’re in the bright halls of Skyhold. The new war room is still an unfamiliar setting to Ellana. The room had too much light, stiff chilly breezes often brushed in from the snow-capped mountains outside, and the ceilings were so high that any odd raised voice would echo within the chamber. Somehow, in the Inquisition’s very own castle, Lavellan missed the dark and damp of the Haven chantry, where she had learned to call home these past few months. 

Josephine pulled the parchment from behind her tablet and pushed it across the table. With a sigh, Ellana picked up the surprisingly thick piece of parchment. The very top of the letter was stamped with a red seal that looked oddly like a dog. Ellana assumed it was the Ferelden royal family’s seal. After her last encounter with the King of Ferelden at Redcliffe, she was not eager to read further beratement of her actions, especially after she had saved the town, a town of his kingdom no less, from becoming the seat of Venatori power. 

The letter read,

 

Inquisitor,

First things first: an apology. I offered the rebel mages safe harbor in Ferelden only to have them drive my uncle out of his town, so I'll admit I wasn't in the best of moods when I first met you. I just wanted everyone out of Redcliffe, and didn't care who was responsible for what. Now I wish I'd done otherwise. Isn't that always the way? These cultists... Venatori, I think they're called? We have them in the royal palace, or so I'm told. Like rats -but with magic and nasty sneers. I don't know what they're up to, but I need to find them and drive them out. Since the Inquisition knows all about them, I'm hoping you'll help. Something something grateful something.

Wait... did you just write that? You scribes do this on purpose, don't you?

King Alistair Theirin

 

“Ha!” Ellana couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, inadvertently drawing all of her advisors’ attention. Leliana gazed at her coolly, revealing none of her thoughts. Josephine coughed a little, as if to hint that an outburst of laughter towards a foreign dignitary is poor manners. Cullen just frowned.

“Now he wants our help!” Ellana exclaimed towards her diplomat, who dropped all pretenses of working on the other missive. 

“Yes, Inquisitor. That is indeed the intent of King Alistair’s letter.” Josephine confirmed patiently, as if walking a child through the first steps of courtly decorum. 

“Josephine, he kicked me out of Redcliffe, even after I removed Alexius from right under his nose. No ‘nice to meet you’ or ‘thank you’. Now he wants my help to remove the Venatori from his capital and makes jokes about it? The gall!”

“King Alistair is beloved in Ferelden, and he apologized for his behaviour in his letter. We are in no position to deny a request from any noble of influence, especially a reigning monarch.” Josephine continued in the same even tone. Ellana scrunched up her face slightly in distaste. 

“Let me see that.” Leliana jumped in. Before Ellana realized, the spymaster had taken the letter out of her hands. Leliana's eyes darted across the letter, then she giggled slightly. “Alistair hasn’t changed one bit.”  
Ellana glanced over at her spymaster. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Cullen’s frown was now directed at Leliana. “The King of Ferelden is a friend of yours?”

“We traveled together briefly during the Fifth Blight with the Hero of Ferelden.” She paused, walking back to her usual station at the war table. “For Alistair to be requesting help, things must be difficult in Denerim.”

“Difficult? What do you mean, Leliana?” Cullen all but abandoned his own deployment schedules and engrossed himself in the conversation.

“While Alistair is not the most politically savvy ruler, he has maintained power in Ferelden for the past 10 years. He helped the country recover from the blight and fended off any Orlesians looking for a chance to recover their lost province. If he had the capability to eliminate this threat, he would not be reaching out to us.”

Ellana could see where this was going. Her diplomat wanted to help, and her spymaster thought the situation tough. “So I take the big swords in, stab some Venatori baddies, gain the gratitude of the king, and then we go on our merry way?” It didn’t sound like a bad idea, now that she had said it aloud. She’d never been to Denerim before, and how often did a person get the chance to foil a royal assassination?

“I believe we have more pressing matters to attend to, Inquisitor.” To Ellana’s surprise, it was Josephine who interjected. “Stopping Corypheus should still be our priority, and I believe it best to focus your attention on the Winter Palace."

“Josephine, I don’t understand…” Ellana began. 

“I have just the agent in mind for this.” Leliana cut in, offering the alternative Ellana was going to inquire for. “Allow me to send her to Denerim to quietly hunt down the Venatori spies.”

“Send forces to aid in the manhunt.” Cullen proposed. “Not only should we help, but everyone should see us doing it.”

“Cullen, that would lead to a spectacle. Denerim will appear weak for having spies in its ranks, and everyone will know it.” Josephine argued. 

Cullen opened his mouth to argue, but Ellana cut in. “So send in the agent then.” The war room always went this way, in a three-way argument until the right balance was struck. They always seemed to reach the correct answer, but the process was exhausting. 

“No,” Josephine replied, deep in thought. “A lone agent won’t be enough to show the Inquisition values Ferelden as a potential ally.”

“Josi, eliminating the threat will be more valuable than any envoy, no?” Leliana had already started scribbling down a message, no doubt instructions for her agent. Josephine didn’t look convinced, and began tapping her pen on her tablet as she mulled over the options. 

“What if the Inquisition sent members of the Inquisitor’s Inner Circle to assist with the task? The Inquisitor will not be distracted from stopping Corypheus directly, and we show Ferelden willingness to dedicate important resources to its aide.” Josephine said carefully, after some consideration. 

“They would provide back-up to Leliana’s agent.” Cullen added, seemingly pondering the proposal and agreeing with it. Leliana simply nodded. All three looked to Lavellan for the final nod.

Ellana shrugged. There’s no arguing when these three were on the same side. “Now I need to figure out who to send.”


	2. Recruitment

Before the meeting ended, Ellana selected her team for the Ferelden mission. As their discussions drew to a close, she exited the war room and descended the steps of the main castle hall, purpose with every stride. Who better to hunt spies than a spy? While Leliana's spy would be more than capable, a second pair of trained eyes would certainly help, especially if the spy was trained to detect irregularities. Her spy enjoyed hanging out in Skyhold's tavern. When she stepped in, the familiar mixture of lute music and laughter, smell of ale and bread, and warmth of the crowd and the hearth filled her senses. A small smile curled around her mouth. She had loved the tavern back at Haven, and she was certainly learning to love the one at Skyhold.

She found the Iron Bull sitting in the back, lounging on a chair dwarfed by his size. Somehow in the odd way he slouched, he still looked very comfortable. As she approached, he greeted her with a boisterous “Boss! Get over here and have a drink!”

She couldn't help but smile at the enthusiasm. She dragged a chair over and sat down next to Bull, who was taking a merry gulp out of his flagon. “As much as I’d love to, Bull, I’m here on business.”

“Oh?” He twisted his head slightly and glanced sideways at her, his cup now resting on his knee. “Where are we going this time?”

“Not we, you.” Ellana clarified.

“Me?!” Bull barked with a laugh. “You’re sending the Ben Hassrath out by himself? Aren’t you afraid I’ll sneak Inquisition secrets to Par Volen, boss? They would be very interested in detailed descriptions of the Inquisitor's finer features." He glanced her up and down, then winked suggestively.

Ellana was used to this dance by now. He flirted, she ignored. The large muscular man did not suit her taste, which leaned towards more refined mannerisms and delicate features. In addition, every time she thought about allowing the Qunari’s advances, the hair on the back of her neck prickled with a sense of unsettlement.  “How do you feel about Ferelden?”

“The country or the women?” He asked after taking another large gulp. “I prefer one over the other.”

Ellana rolled her eyes. Sometimes it was impossible to have a real conversation with Bull without getting off-track. She decided the best course of action was to cut to the chase. “I would like you to go to Denerim to take care of a spy problem.”

That got Bull’s attention. He sat up straighter and turned his entire body towards Ellana. “What kind of spy problem?” His voice had a slight edge to it.

“The Venatori kind, right in the royal palace so I’m told. It’ll be a small group. You and two others, in and out. Make contact, find the spies, and eliminate them. No noise, no fuss. You in?”

Bull looked pensive for a beat, then chuckled unreservedly. “Boss, you have the best jobs. Next, you’ll tell me to go kill a dragon for its teeth.”

“I’m assuming that’s a yes.”

“That’s a hell yes!” Bull raised his flagon in a salute, then drained its remaining contents.

At that, Ellana smiled and stood up to leave. After all, she had to approach her second recruit, who might prove more difficult to convince. Before she could walk away, Bull also stood and slapped his large hand over her slight elven shoulder, almost knocking her off her feet.

“So,” his voice was low and rumbly as he brought his mouth closer to her ear. “Want to tell me why you’re not coming, boss?”

Ellana sighed, allowing her shoulders to slouch further under the weight of his hand. ‘I’ve been ordered to learn how to dance.’”

\----------

As expected, Ellana found her Venatori expert perusing a section of the library. His fingers traced the embossed lettering along a book’s spine as she approached. He stood in a dark alcove where the few lit candles induced quite a dramatic effect from the glistening metallic buckles adorning Dorian's outfit of the day. As Ellana got closer, she could hear the mage making disgruntled noises at the bookshelf.

"The Inquisition's collection of Tevinter literature is hopelessly lacking." He threw his hands up in a dramatic show of futility. "What kind of library does not have at least three editions of 'Reign of Dumat' by Archon Darinius?"

"Archon who now?" Ellana had a feeling her ignorance was going to encourage Dorian further into his exasperated state. She couldn't help but bait her Tevinter friend sometimes.

"Archon Darinius? The first Archon and founder of the Tevinter Imperium? United Tevinter and Qarinus under one rule?" Dorian's tone became increasingly exasperated at Ellana's blank stare. "You certainly aren't improving the reputation of Southerners as unlearned peasants."

Ellana stuck her tongue out at her mage friend in the brattiest manner possible, just short of blowing a raspberry. "How would you like to gather valuable Tevinter literature for the Inquisition, Oh Mighty Wise One?"

"Certainly!" To Ellana's annoyance, Dorian ignored the sarcasm in her voice completely. "I shall bolster your knowledge, and do it with unparalleled style. Give me access to your coffers and some time to reach some of my contacts in Minrathous. The Inquisition shall have the greatest collection outside of the Imperium itself." Dorian finished excitedly, already scrambling for a pen and parchment.

"Actually…" Ellana said sheepishly, almost guilty for having to put a damper on his enthusiasm. "I was hoping you could gather the collection while you travel to Denerim."

Dorian stopped in his tracks abruptly,. "Denerim?! How can I find Tevinter history in Denerim? That place smells of dogs! Have you seen their architecture? It’s as if they had one palette to paint the city made of various shades of brown. Not to mention the fashion! No style, no flair, no je-ne-sais-quois. It's a city wrapped in blandness! A bit … like this drab you're wearing, actually."

He gestured up and down at the beige button-up shirt Ellana usually donned in Skyhold. Ellana looked down, biting her bottom lip slightly as she attempted to puzzle out why Dorian found this particular outfit offensive. The shirt was plain, yes, but it fit well and most comfortable. She twisted slightly to look down the side and the back. Perhaps the offending part of the article was where she couldn't see?

"Don't strain your pretty little head too hard." Dorian smirked patronizingly. "You're a lost cause with these things."

Ellana straightened up, blushing slightly. This was enough attention on her fashion choices for one day. As with Bull, she decided the best course of action was to cut to the chase. "So Denerim. I have it on good authority there's a Venatori plot at play, and it goes all the way to the royal palace."

Dorian's expression sobered at the mention of Venatori. "Oh? A Venatori plot in the Ferelden royal palace. I don't suppose their delightful ruler informed you of that after kicking us out of Redcliffe?"

"That's exactly what happened."

"Let me guess. You would like me to accompany you in a most dashing elimination of the Venatori spies, save the king's life in the process, and gain Ferelden's eternal gratitude? I certainly wouldn't mind the gratitude. Despite his rudeness, their king is not a bad looking chap. For a dog lord, that is."

Ellana was beginning to regret this plan. Dorian stood before her wearing an expression that seemed he was daydreaming about King Alistair's better features. Between this and Bull's inevitable flirtation with the whole royal palace, Ellana feared they would cause a diplomatic incident before the mission was over. She prayed to the gods that Leliana's agent was as good as her reputation claimed.

"So is that a yes?" Ellana said after some silence, interrupting whatever Dorian was mentally picturing.

Dorian shook his head slightly, as if to clear his thoughts. "Am I permitted to obtain more Tevene books for the library?"

"Within reason and Josephine sets your budget."

"Then yes. I shall go to Denerim."

"Good." Ellana heaved a mental sigh of relief. The next part was going to be tricky. She thought it would be best to get it over with quickly, like ripping off bandage dressing from a particularly nasty wound.

"By the way I'm not actually coming with you and your companions will be Bull and a spy of Leliana's. You meet at the gate tomorrow morning at sunrise to depart. Thanks Dorian! Bye!" She tried her best to not fumble on words as the sentence spilled out of her lips as fast as possible.

"Wait, what?" Ellana heard Dorian's shocked sputtering, but she had already spun around and was on the exit strategy stage of her plan. She had to make a quick exit, before Dorian blocked her escape and demanded an explanation. A quick scan of the tower showed down was faster than up. She leapt up onto the railing surrounding the inside of the tower's circular walkway and jumped down without missing a beat.

Ellana assumed that Dorian, along with others in the tower including some new mage recruits, leaned over the railing to observe the Inquisitor's daringly stupid feat. Her nimble rogue balance was the only saving grace that helped her stay on her feet as she landed on Solas's table. She was aiming for this conveniently placed piece of furnishing to minimize her fall distance. Unfortunately the landing caused a few sheets of paper to flutter about and a bottle of ink to tip over.

"Fenedhis!" She cursed under her breath as she quickly righted the ink jar and collected the paper into a neat stack back on the desk. As she hopped off, she saw Solas frowning at her slightly from the wall where he was painting. Ellana gave him a wide innocent smile and an enthusiastic wave before strolling out of the rotunda with all of the dignity she could muster.


	3. Meeting

Charter was not a morning person. Stalking around the chilly Skyhold courtyard in search of anomalies was not her ideal morning activity. She would have preferred a warm bed accessorized by a handsome man, perhaps one who had the same tousled hair as the Inquisition’s Commander. Instead, she was shivering under a grey-hued sky not yet bright with sunlight. As she completed her inspection of the courtyard, she shivered in her brown leather armor, wishing she had brought heavier clothes. The tip of her sharp ears felt tender against the bite of the Frostback breeze, exposed due to the sensible braid her auburn locks were bound in. 

It could have been a lot worse, she thought, holding back a yawn. At least Leliana saw to it that the horses were readied by others overnight so she could focus on mission preparations. She could’ve been up much earlier if she had to groom and saddle the horses as well. 

She supposed she should have foregone her ritual and slept a few more minutes, arriving to meet her companions at sunrise instead of half an hour prior to sunrise. But old habits die hard. This routine of pre-scouting rendez-vous locations has saved her life many times.

During her inspection, she made careful note of her exit options as well as advantageous choke points if a scuffle were to break out. Not that she expected the meeting to reach any level of hostility at all, but she was nothing if not prepared. Of course, this being Skyhold, she finished her scan with no concerns and plenty of time to spare. The courtyard was a ghost town. Other than the occasional sound of wind whistling past the battlements above, all was quiet. There were no loiterers attempting to look casual, no mysterious knap-sacks appearing overnight, no gleams of weapons hidden in dark corners. 

It was just Charter and her thoughts. 

She sighed and plopped herself down on a nearby patch of grass, wishing it was her bed instead. There was nothing further to do but wait for her companions. 

...Her companions, she thought with a sinking knot in her stomach full of dread. 

She was no stranger to last minute mission requests from Nightingale. This one involving the possible assassination of a ruler was nothing short of fascinating. She was already in the middle of strategizing the palace infiltration using old Denerim connections when Leliana mentioned companions. 

That had Charter stopping in her tracks. 

Ever since she first got into the spying business, she had always worked alone. While not averse to the idea of a team mission, she was skeptical about the Inquisitor’s choice of these particular companions. Much of her past success in the field of espionage was attributed to her skill of taking advantage of her appearance to blend in with the crowd. Nobody ever looked twice at a doe-eyed elven servant, much less think her intelligent and observant. 

However, blending in would be difficult with a Qunari and a Tevinter mage in tow. She knew of the Iron Bull and Dorian Pavus through Leliana's detailed personnel reports. 

Dorian was a pampered noble who preferred flair over substance. He enjoyed dressing in flamboyant clothes which made blending into the crowd difficult. While the Iron Bull was trained in espionage by the Ben-Hassrath, a Qunari standing in plain sight screamed anything but subtle. 

She was not quite sure how to plan the mission yet. Her companions were some bloody big wildcards in what could’ve been an easy open and shut mission.   
She sighed. 

"It’d be boring otherwise." She muttered to herself, trying to convince herself that interesting was much better than boring.. 

"Of course it would." Charter jumped at the deep throaty voice. It came from behind her. Instincts kicked in and she was on her feet, turned towards the direction of the voice with with her daggers drawn and ready to parry a blow. 

No attack came. 

Instead she found her field of view blocked by a massive brown, and very naked, torso. Wait, not entirely naked. There was a single leather patch for armor, wrapped around his left shoulder and forearm. A single thin piece of leather wound across the chest securing the leather armor in place. 

She forced her eyes upwards past massive shoulders and a thick neck to find the horned head of the creature. The Iron Bull's massive Qunari frame was uncomfortably close to her, dwarfing her small lithe body. His chin was tilted down as his one sharp eye studied her. 

How did he get that close without her noticing? Could the massive Qunari be so light on his feet that she didn’t notice the sound of his footsteps approaching? 

Or maybe she was too distracted by her own thoughts. She couldn’t help but scowl a bit at the slip-up of letting down her guard. She was impressed, however, that he was quiet enough not to pull her out of her own thoughts. 

Ben-Hassrath trained indeed. This man could be trouble.

She briefly considered feigning a stab at the Qunari, if only to mend her wounded ego from being surprised. But at the sight of her sharp daggers, his hands were held up in front of him in a sign of yielding. Then he backed away half a step. 

“Woah. Didn't mean to startle you there.” His voice was casual, no shakes betraying any fear despite having sharp weapons pointed in his direction. Charter made a mental note to be very careful. “I'm Bull. I believe we will be traveling to Denerim together."

Without taking her eyes off the horned man before her, Charter slowly, and reluctantly, lowered her daggers without sheathing them. She scanned him up and down, attempting to catalogue him from his appearance.

Tall and muscular – strong, not easily overpowered. Horns – can be leveraged for grip, may be sensitive. Eyepatch – can be fake, assume fake to be safe. Bare chest – no armor, but Qunari skin is tough. Scars – battle-worn, assume experienced. Loose breeches – still not armor, assume small weapons hidden. Weapon – large two-handed sword strapped to back, no shield or metal armor, low defense for warrior, assume shock troop for fast kill and fast exit. Ben-Hassrath – well trained and intelligent. Conclusion – Charter had no obvious advantage on this man. 

And she was not pleased about that. 

"You're early." It was all she cared to say after the stretch of silence.

"So are you." Bull retorted evenly.

"Charter." She was barely able to grit out her name between her teeth. It had been a long time that she met someone she wasn’t able to discern an advantage over. She prefered to know weaknesses of friends and enemies alike. She would have to think on this more in their travels. 

"Heh, nice to meet you Charter." There was a small grin on his face.

Charter simply grunted in reply. She sheathed her daggers as she continued to scan the large man before her, suspicion clear on her face.

"So," Bull started, stepping forward again. "You're a redhead."

Charter narrowed her eyes. "What of it?"

"I like redheads." Bull said with a large smile and a twinkle in his eye. 

Charter rolled her eyes. 

First two minutes and this mission is already going fantastically off-course. 

To her right she heard soft delicate footsteps approaching. She didn’t need to turn to guess who was approaching.

"The sun is not risen yet and you're already flirting, Iron Bull?" A higher, softer voice drawled. The voice belonged to a darker skinned man in an off-the-shoulder leather robe decorated with jewels and metals. Even this early in the morning the man's hair and moustache were perfectly coiffed. Charter wondered how early he had woken up to prim himself into this shape. He had an elaborate mage staff capped with a dark red jewel against his back. He lifted an eyebrow skeptically at Bull, who simply kept grinning.

Average height for a human, somewhat muscular – not sure if strength or appearance, assume strength. Grooming – impeccable, assume lived life of luxury. Weapon – mage staff, assume dangerous from long distance. Few callouses on hands – little manual labour experience, existing callouses appear to be from staff use. Outfit – flashy and impractical, likely heavy due to numerous metal components, hinder movement, fitted and difficult for hidden weapons. Conclusion – mage likely weak in close quarters, combination of speed and close-distance is key to disabling the mage. 

"Dorian Pavus?" Charter inquired, content with her scrutinizing.

"The very same, humbly at your service." Dorian extended his arms flourishingly as a part of a most elaborate bow. 

Charter grunted again in reply. Of all the people in the Inquisition, they stuck her with a flirt and a show-off. 

"Woman of few words, huh? I can get behind that." Bull was positively beaming at the duo before him. 

"I'm sure that's not the only thing you want to get behind." Dorian sneered.

"Jealous, Vint? There's plenty of Iron Bull to go around."

"Not on your life!" Dorian sounded a little too indignant.

Oh great, are these two flirting with each other? 

Charter cleared her throat, attempting to cut off the inane conversation before it strayed further from the mission. "Horses are ready. Get your packs. The journey will be four days."

She headed towards the stable without a backwards glance. Let the men do as they wished. She had spies to kill and a monarch to save. From a few steps behind her she heard Dorian mutter "Well... the elf is a bitch."


	4. Attack

The path selected for their trip to Denerim would see that they descend the Frostback Mountains as quickly as possible to allow faster travel on horseback via road to the Ferelden capital. Luckily, the journey down the mountain path was nowhere near as treacherous as their initial search for Skyhold. The Inquisition had been prioritizing construction activities along the Frostback Mountain Pass to allow for easier access for merchants, foreign dignitaries, and any refugees who wished to join the cause.

The initial part of the trio’s journey was spent in blissful silence. Thanks to the Inquisition’s efforts and presence, they made quick time down the mountain without any excitement. The sun wasn’t even fully overhead when their path began to even out and the scenery became less dominated by jagged peaks.

Unfortunately, in their effort to minimizing mountain roads, they had to pass right by Haven. It had only been two weeks since the attack on the former Inquisition base, and one week since the Inquisition attempted to establish a presence in their new headquarters.

Haven had seen better days.

The few buildings left erect were blackened and charred in wake of the onslaught. The sight tugged at Charter’s heartstrings slightly. Judging from the gasps behind her, she wasn’t the only one shocked at the sight of the village.

“Just goes to show what a Magister with a god complex can do.” Dorian drawled, sounding clearly uncomfortable despite the levity he tried to inject into his voice.

“The dragon didn’t help either.” Bull snorted.

Charter remained silent. The scene before them was all the commentary needed. What unsettled her was that she generally made a rule not to become attached to any location, not to call any place home. It was difficult in her line of work to have attachments. They inevitably led to pain, blackmail, and in the worst case death. For her to feel even the slightest tinge of sadness spelled trouble.

Maybe it was because she lingered there longer than any other place since she was a child. Maybe it was the ease with which she melted into a greater goal. Or maybe it was the vehemence of the Inquisitor to defend their little village, not even backing down from a dragon.

Whatever the reason, this was bad news.

She grimaced slightly. It wasn’t like her to allow emotions to get the better of her. She could hear Nightingale’s voice in her head, teasing that she’s going soft. She needed to push this feeling out, the sooner the better. Pointly, she avoided further glances at the town and kicked her mount into a gallop, disregarding whether her companions followed or not. The sooner she passed through Haven, the better.

Unfortunately, the universe had other ideas.

Before Haven disappeared past the horizon behind her, three armed men jumped out from the adjacent woods into their path.

They were dressed in tatters. The men’s armors were patchy at best, their weapons dull. The man at the front held a chipped sword and a dented shield, clearly scavenged somewhere. The other two weren’t much better off. The archer had no armor to speak of, and the dagger-wielding rogue’s boots had holes exposing his toes. All three had tell-tale signs of hunger showing in their sunken eyes and hollow cheeks. It was clear the men, and their gear, had seen better days.

She quickly assess her situation. To her right were the woods the bandits jumped out of. She didn’t think there were more in hiding. These men looked desperate, not organized. To her left was a stream coursing towards Lake Calenhad - not an easy escape route. The bandits were before her, blocking her path. Best of all, neither Dorian nor Bull were behind her.

Maybe galloping away wasn’t the best idea, because right now she would appreciate the intimidation factor that caje with having a giant horned man and an openly practicing mage as companions. Maybe that would’ve scared the bandits off. She sure didn’t look intimidating alone, a small elf on a horse.

Charter sighed. “I do not wish to fight you.”

The man in front sneered, baring teeth. “It’s three-on-one, knife ear. You’re out-numbered.”

“But not out-matched.” She replied evenly. She saw nerves etched in the features of the other two bandits. They weren’t eager for a fight, just hungry. She was a far cry from their state, dressed in clean and practical leathers and traveling on a full belly with a full pouch of food.

The warrior, clearly the leader and the bravest of the lot, growled slightly. “Hand over your pack, elf, and we’ll let you go.”

He gestured to the knapsack behind her, slung over the rear of her mount and bulging with food and supplies for her trip.

She sighed again. Why couldn’t this ever be easy? Why couldn’t any of the highwaymen just take a hint and leave her alone? She was well-armoured and clearly well equipped. She didn’t think she appeared like a shrinking violet at this particular moment. Didn’t these men make a living of distinguishing easy targets?

Then again, she pitied these bandits. They appeared starving and barely able to survive. They were probably driven to a life of intimidation and theft. She would rather reason with them than kill them outright. This bloody soft-hearted streak was going to be the death of her.

Charter held her right hand up, in a show of surrender, while she reached her left hand into her pack. The act put all three men on alert. The archer appeared to have gotten over his nerves as he strung his bow and aimed an arrow right at her face.

“I mean you no harm.” She used her best soothing voice as her left hand landed on the object she was looking for. Very slowly, her hand withdraw from the knapsack. She made sure that the bandits had enough time to see the item she was pulling out and react to it before the item was fully withdrawn from her bag.

It was a loaf of bread.

None of bandits moved. They all eyed the bread intently. The dagger rogue had a line of saliva dripping out of the corner of his mouth. Charter tossed the loaf towards the leader of the bandits. The bread landed a few inches in front of the warrior. Charter wasn’t sure what she expected. It still surprised her when he scrambled forward in a most undignified manner and all but scooped up the bread.  

“Consider this my toll,” she said, hoping the appeasement was enough.

The bandits weren’t paying attention. They split the loaf in the blink of an eye and wolfed it down faster than Charter thought possible. In a flash, the bread was gone.

She knew how this worked. She paid her toll, and now the bandits would step aside and let her pass. Instead, the three bandits edged closer, eyeing her knapsack even more hungrily than before.

These weren’t rules she was familiar with. Instead of avoiding a fight, she just invited one.

“Leave the bag.” The warrior growled again.

She pondered it. That was simply not an option. Her disguises, mission parchments, and most importantly, Denerim contact information, were all within the knapsack. She could give up her food if necessary, but the information was not negotiable. She considered tossing her food out and making a run for it, but she doubted the bandits would accept that it was just parchments left in her bags.

She thought the bread would appease the bandits, but it just made the situation worse.

There had to be another way, a way that didn’t end in bloodshed of the hungry and desperate. The hungry and desperate didn’t leave her much time to mull the situation over. A dagger whipped by her, dangerously close to her left ear. It appeared the rogue had decided action was preferable to further stand-offs. Not her prefered method, but if the bandits were willing to throw the first punch, so to speak, then she had no trouble with engaging.

Charter pulled her daggers out of her belt and threw herself off her mount. The warrior was charging towards her, and behind him she could see an arrow being notched. The rogue was moving towards her, attempting to flank her from the right where he could retrieve his lost dagger.

She patted her horse quickly, allowing him to gallop out of danger. Just in time too, because a sword was swinging down towards her head, and she parried just in time with her dagger as the sword pressed down towards the top of her head. Ordinarily, a dagger wouldn’t withstand the weight of a sword, but in this case her dagger was cast out of veridium and his sword was old and rickety.

She allowed the sword to press her lower, then pushed up with her legs up to throw the bandit back. It appeared he was not expecting the push as he staggered back slightly. Charter immediately rolled left as an arrow whistled past where she was standing. She glanced right, and saw that the dagger rogue was almost in position behind her. She had to take one out quickly to level the fight.

Luckily, she had just the tool in her pouch.

Her smokebomb detonated at her feet, shrouding her in dense purple mist. She took the opportunity to cloak, giving the warrior a wide berth as he twisted about in confusion. She snuck behind the bandits’ formation, positioning herself directly behind the archer. Without further ado, she aimed both daggers, and lept out of the shadows to stab into the archer’s back.

He groaned, then the noise was cut short by a gurgle of blood. Without drama, he collapsed. She yanked her daggers out as his body went down, staring grimly at the spurts of blood gushing out of his wounds.

One down, two to go. Easy enough.

Maybe she shouldn’t have thought that, because the Maker had a sense of humour. Before she could cloak again to move on to her next target, she found her feet encased in ice. It took her a full second to figure out why she couldn’t move. She looked down in confusion, seeing but not comprehending the icicles spreading further up her knees.

Mage? There were no mages in this party? Where would they…

“Shit.” She swore out loud.

Of course. Of course they had a mage hidden in the treeline. Why wouldn’t they? Why else would they be so bold? They were playing her all along. She underestimated the bandits.

_Okay, calm down. What’s the best way to get out of this situation?_

She took a deep breath, attempting to put the sting of the icicles at her feet out of her mind. She had encountered ice magic before. The quickest method of regaining movement had always been to shatter the ice. It would be painful, but the freedom would allow her to cloak again and move herself out of immediate danger.

Before she could act, immediate danger already found her. The bandit warrior was charging towards her with with his sword and a fury twisted on his features.

She had no choice.

She flipped the grip on her dagger and was about to stab down towards her own knee when a scream startled her.

She looked up to find the warrior on fire, running about in a panic. He was the source of the scream.

_What the…_

Her eyes focused past the bandits. It appeared Charter’s companions had finally caught up with her.

Dorian stood behind the bandits, flipping around his staff in a practiced motion akin to a well choreographed dance. Fireballs whipped out of the staff towards the warrior, further lighting his sleeves and collar on fire. Bull had removed his massive sword from his back, and was charging forward towards the dagger rogue with his sword in tow. Charter had to admit it was an intimidating sight to behold.

Not only was Charter no longer in danger of being chopped down, but the heat of Dorian’s fireballs also melted the icicles holding her feet in place.

She quickly tugged her left foot out of the grips of the ice, then her right, relieved that she didn’t have to resort to shattering her own legs. She cloaked immediately, intent on taking down the mage hiding in the woods.

It didn’t take her long to find the mage. He was not far past the treeline. The mage was dressed in tattered circle apprentice robes, his staff nowhere near as elaborate as those she’d seen in Skyhold. He also appeared to have fallen on hard times, but Charter had little sympathy for the man.

She circled around the mage until she was behind him, He gave no indication that he was aware of her, and was hard at work casting a spell on Dorian. Charter took the opportunity to come out of stealth and pushed her dagger against his throat. The mage suspended his casting when he felt the steel against his bare skin and whimpered slightly. Charter pulled her hand across his throat in one smooth practiced motion, and the mage was down. Blood spurted out of his throat.

_Idiot_.

Charter focused her attention on the last remaining bandit. The warrior. The leader of the small ragtag team.

She stalked out of the forest towards the warrior, who was finally successful in putting out the fire alit on his clothing. His sleeves showed charred uneven hemlines and his left collarbone was exposed under his torn armor.

Dorian appeared satisfied with his work and held his staff loosely in his right hand. Bull stood in front of Dorian, eying the one remaining bandit warily. He stabbed his massive sword into the ground, and leaned on it slightly. It appeared both men were waiting for Charter to place herself in front of the bandit to issue final judgment.

The bandit warrior looked around in a panic. He first spotted the dead archer, laying behind him in a pool of blood. Then he spotted the dagger rogue’s body, whose severed head had rolled east, finding a resting place amongst the pebbles on the bank of the stream. Charter assumed Iron Bull decapitated the man. Then the bandits eyes went towards the treeline, and spotted his mage slumped on the ground, blood still pouring out of his neck.

The bandit fell to his knees, shaking.

Charter had no sympathy left. She took two brisk steps forward and slit the man’s throat


End file.
